I'll Be Home
by rhinestonecowboy
Summary: A vignette in three parts. Is there such a thing as perfect? Maybe. But Caroline doesn't think it applies to her life. Eleanor and Jane disagree with her. Set about eight years after Caroline and Eleanor marry, and about one year before their separation begins (ie before the Nothing More short). Part of a larger work in glacial progress. Anonymous reviews will be removed.
1. Chapter 1

"A capon? All you have left is a _capon_?" Caroline's pitch rose with each word sputtered out covered in disbelief. "But it's the _holidays_." She threw in the last as though it were a secret pass code to unlocking a magical freezer full of more desirable but unavailable meats.

"Ma'am, it's nine pm on December 23rd. We've sold out of turkeys and decent roasts days ago."

"That's unacceptable. And poor planning on your part." Caroline heaved her frustration off on 'Leslie' the hapless meat clerk at the Waitrose. She assumed she was wearing the right name tag, despite any other incompetency she'd already displayed. The woman's squared-off and asymmetrical haircut was as bad as her attitude and worse than Caroline's mood at shopping for Christmas dinner on her own, late at night after a bruiser of a day at school. The students might be gone for holiday but her troubles certainly weren't.

"I mean why do you even have capon in the first place? They're god-awful." She offered a humbled tone but couldn't bring herself to accept reality. This was her third stop in pursuit of a bird worthy of Christmas dinner. She'd already tried for lamb as plan B and each clerk had simply laughed at her.

"People want the craziest things." A shrug from the clerk and a set of her mouth Caroline read to say, _'Like the ability to buy a turkey long after anyone sensible would already be defrosting theirs.'_

"Fine. I'll take it."

Caroline clipped up her long greying blonde hair as Leslie scurried through a door ostensibly to a back room - only to emerge with the scrawniest, loosely wrapped approximation of a chicken she'd seen since she'd been stupid enough to charge her ex-husband John with holiday shopping for the first and last time thirty years ago.

"How many pounds is that pathetic thing?"

"Eight pounds, ma'am."

"Eight _pounds_? I couldn't feed my wife and daughter with _eight_ pounds, much less the menagerie I'm expecting."

"Well it's what we have." Leslie's dead-eyed stare indicated Caroline's sterile blue attempt at intimidation had little effect.

Without another word Caroline grabbed the package from the woman's hands and tossed it on top of the heap in her cart.

Under pallid fluorescent lights she shoved the trolley up and down the aisles. She swept the last of her list into it with little care about what survived. Though she did move the eggs to the top rack. Eleanor had requested two dozen, and Caroline preserved enough common sense to know that smashed eggs would be far too high a price to pay for the temporary satisfaction of living out her temper tantrum. There were pastries to be considered, after all.

Already gone almost two weeks, her soon-to-be-capon-eating wife wasn't scheduled to be back to Harrogate from Munich until the following day – Christmas Eve. Caroline was plenty petulant about being left to prepare for the holiday. They hadn't known Eleanor would be out of the country with a client when they'd asked both sides of the family over for dinner. A packed table of twelve. _'Plus Jane.'_ Caroline kept missing her best friend in the head count and feeling guilty each time she did.

And then there was that pesky film crew that was supposed to stop by. She shuddered. No. Caroline wasn't about to call that off - no matter how much extra work it piled on her plate.

This year had also been the one of the very few holiday dinner invitations that Eleanor's thawed but still chilly mother Margaret had deigned to accept and grace them with her presence. Honestly, Caroline couldn't take credit or even feel particularly crow-ish about it. Margaret and George had aged quite well, physically. But the eight years since she'd met them had started well and turned quickly for both of them. Which was a lovely distraction from thinking about the state of Celia and Alan.

Distracted, she slammed into an end-cap display featuring silver and gold boxes of truffles. A box tumbled into the cart. _'Must be a sign.'_ She reversed and shoved on to the checkouts.

* * *

Loaded down with grocery totes like pack mule, as she swung open the back door to the house she let out a stifled cry of relief. From the living room she heard the simple chords of Eleanor's current favorite holiday song ringing on the Steinway. Then, the peaceful warm flow of Eleanor's rich voice smothering and smoothing the frustration that had been building for days. The fact that Eleanor sounded more like Karen Carpenter than the woman herself when she sang certainly wasn't the only reason Caroline had fallen headfirst into her. But it hadn't hurt.

Her wife had managed to return early. Of course she had. Caroline set the bags on the massive wood block island dominating the mostly stainless steel kitchen and kicked the door closed with her heel. Eleanor likely hadn't heard her come in and that suited her fine, to listen and breathe in the calm that permeated her whenever both her girls were home. She tossed her keys on the counter next to the groceries, rested her palms against it, bent her head, and soaked up the warmth of the holiday spirit so recently come to her.

She always hated each night Eleanor was gone. No matter how comfortable their bed, she never slept as well as she did wrapped around her. And - she wouldn't have to unload the packed car all by herself. Win-win.

She pulled off her gloves, slipped out of her navy scarf, shrugged off her winter coat and laid it all over the groceries. With long strides pulling at her grey skirt she made her way across to the twinkle-lit living room on the opposite side of the house. She hoped to catch at least a glimpse of Eleanor playing before the song finished.

She arrived in time to see loose, waving, long brown-auburn hair shifting back and forth as Eleanor bent at the piano. The slightest change in the tilt of Eleanor's head told Caroline she'd heard her approach, so she came forward and sat next to her on the shining black bench.

The song ended with the same simple notes it started. Eleanor's fingers finished their certain, delicate play on the keys and she turned with pert lips bowed upward just at the corners. Caroline felt silly at her own anger. The last of any lingering ire at the day melted as Eleanor placed a firm hand at her waist and favored her with a wanting kiss. She leaned further in to whisper at her ear.

"Welcome home, Caroline. I've missed you terribly."

* * *

"Because we need a little Christmas to make it pop." Eleanor peered from the kitchen this way and that at bare walls and windows. "Right this very minute, Caroline Strathclyde." She wagged a finger that shot disapproval and a blanket of cold water over Caroline's warm glow. "You agreed to that film crew invading our house, Ms. 'Woman of the Year,' and I won't have us looking like we hired Bad Santa to decorate."

Caroline's previously dormant volcano of frustration erupted and she skipped over any notice she might have made of Eleanor's occasional jest about her refusing to change her name.

"You're the one who's gone most of the month in Germany – leaving me to do all the work to host your family for Christmas dinner. And you're telling me I haven't put up enough _tinsel_ to suit you?"

She didn't need the ridiculous 'Woman of the Year' honor from the Harrogate Chamber of Commerce thrown in her face either – considering the fact that her school was currently down and at the nine count on the mat. Elite music academies with commitments to access weren't exactly an easy sell in the current political climate. Add in an endowment that never rebounded after the 2018 crash? Caroline might be responsible for keeping the school from shuttering when she arrived, but the fight was still daily.

"Oh Caroline – " Eleanor dragged out the pronunciation and her voice dripped honey. "It's just a little stark in here, that's all."

She moved to pull Caroline to her and Caroline stepped right back.

"Don't you 'Caroline' me, Eleanor." She wagged her own finger and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Darling." Eleanor's deep brown eyes tapered in concern as she pouted.

"Don't 'darling' me either. You're years late with that tactic."

"Now that's something I never want to hear, no matter how cross you are." Eleanor stopped pouting and her voice dropped. "When all my charms have worn off we're in dire straits. Nothing left but your withered wife pleading for mercy and it falling on deaf, callous ears." She tossed her hair over her shoulder and threw in a shiver. "Say it won't ever be so."

Caroline narrowed her eyes and didn't uncross her arms. Eleanor wasn't yet offering anything that made her feel any better.

Eleanor scowled, then sighed. "I'm sorry. I am. I do know what I've asked of you." She cast a contrite look at the hardwood of the kitchen floor before she looked up and her eyes sparked. "I also know I offered to help in any way that I could, even if it meant throwing money at the problem." She stepped into Caroline and laid a finger on her sternum, right at the last button she'd done up. "You're the martyr who said no."

"My god but you're dramatic, aren't you?" Of course that wasn't anything new. She'd wondered for a year or two if Eleanor's affected veneer would wear off once the honeymoon were over. It hadn't. It had pricked at the practicality in her, when she realized its endurance, until she settled in eventually to love it in a completely different manner. She tried very hard to hold on to her irritation. But the truth was she had missed Eleanor, and with her wife home early they'd have the house and Christmas dinner fixed in a jiff between them. Even if they didn't do a thing about it for the rest of the night.

She knew Eleanor would feel her change of heart before she realized she'd even had it. Eleanor had read and played her as easily as she did sheet music from day one. On cue, Eleanor unleashed a wide smile full of white teeth and satisfied triumph. "I am dramatic. And your adoration of that's long been written into the marriage contract."

"Your list of what I've signed off on lengthens faster than Pinocchio's nose." Caroline circled the island counter top putting away groceries, Eleanor trailing her and collecting and folding totes.

"When I stuck my head in to say goodnight, Flora said you promised her three full brackets in the holiday carol competition." After saying a long hello to Eleanor, Caroline had popped upstairs to check in on the blooming teenage daughter who hadn't yet turned on them.

"I did. Prepare yourself for all the cheer you can handle."

Caroline tilted her head side to side. "It'll be a nice break from the minor key. She's on a tear. I fear it's a harbinger of hormones to come. I think that might have been dampening my spirit before you even left." She wasn't sure if the log of chevre she waved in her hand underscored or undermined her point.

"Well good for her. Mastering the fundamentals makes all the difference when you want to move on to more sophisticated applications of any skill set."

"No doubt." Caroline pulled the cork on a long-lost bottle of Beaujolais from last month and eyed Eleanor down as she poured. "It's too bad you're back to Munich so soon after the holidays." She turned her back and scattered crackers next to bits of cheese she'd shaved from what she'd scavenged at the market.

She turned again to Eleanor who was tracing circles on the wood top with manicured fingertips. "I'm only gone for another two weeks after New Year. And then I'm supposed to be back home – for months."

"Months? Really?" Her tone was as dry as the wine, if it had been any good. No wonder the bottle went missing. It was a promise she'd heard before. Caroline nodded and leaned on her elbows. Her hair came forward and they both studied the counter.

Eleanor's stool scraped across the kitchen floor and then she was standing next to Caroline. She rested a hand on the small of Caroline's back and laid her head on her shoulder. "Months. Really."

She brought her hand up to rest on Eleanor's and she leaned against her with a slim smile. "Okay."


	2. Chapter 2

"There's no such thing as perfect, Jane Hayden."

"Puh-lease, Caroline Dawson. There absolutely is. You and Eleanor are totally perfect. Aging like your overpriced wine - gorgeous, successful, and perfect. Disgustingly so." In the passenger seat of the Rover, Jane rolled her head and her eyes.

"No we're not." The retort slipped out faster and sharper than she'd intended. Best friend or not she wasn't going to air the dirty laundry of her marriage when she herself hadn't figured it out for herself.

Too late. She'd stopped trying long ago to get things past Jane, a DCI now in North Yorkshire and still frustratingly observant.

"Oh?" Jane's head snapped over toward Caroline. Her best friend who was perpetually attached but never for long, Caroline knew that Jane's interest was captured by any chink in Caroline and Eleanor's fairy tale armor. Even if it were only for the scandal of it all.

"Simmer down. No – 'oh'. It's just holidays. I'm overworked and tired. So is Eleanor. That's all there is to it." Caroline emphasized the point with a sweep of her hand. It was the stress of the holidays, of family. And her imploding school. And the fact that she felt like an imposter whenever anyone called her successful. And the fact that her wife spent much of the year traveling for work.

When they'd married and Eleanor left her senior post in pharmaceuticals and started at her best friend's business consulting firm it was meant to be the – perfect – solution for the couple, allowing both to find professional fulfillment. They'd met with success, but more and more limited as the years wore on. And, as always, Caroline wanted more.

Jane leaned over to nudge Caroline's shoulder and animated her eyebrows. "How's the sex holding up?"

Caroline narrowed her eyes and shook her head as she pulled into the car park at the tree lot. Eleanor had sent them packing first thing with orders to return only in the event she found just the right Blue Spruce for the corner of the living room.

"None of your business. That's how." She threw the white SUV into park and they piled out.

Their breath puffed around them in the cold grey morning. Jane veered over to nudge Caroline yet again. She didn't speak but kept shoving and waving her eyebrows up and down.

Caroline planted and turned. "It's fine." She huffed and looked skyward. "When she's here."

Still no follow up from Jane, but an expectant look waited for more.

She thought about Eleanor's return home last night, caught her breath, and couldn't help herself as a smile snuck onto her lips. "It's stupendous, in fact." She'd never before felt right about sexualizing Mrs. Claus, but Eleanor really had done a great job convincing her to let go of her misgivings.

"Ah!" Jane planted a finger on Caroline's black puffy coat and shoved. "Not 24/7/365. But you two are still perfect. ' _Stupendous_ , in fact'!"

She hated to admit it, but over the years Jane had developed a hilariously accurate imitation of her. Caroline planted her finger in Jane's blue puffy coat and shoved right back, punctuating each word. "There. is. no. such. thing. as. perfect."

Jane walked on past Caroline and yelled over her shoulder for all to hear as she entered the lot. "Yes there is. You just refuse to see it."

Caroline double-timed to catch up with her. She almost lost her footing on the ice, but grabbed at the split-rail wooden fence around the trees and righted herself. She opened her mouth with yet another come-back but closed it when she glanced around. The selection was more picked over than the meat counter at the grocery.

Jane turned to Caroline with a pained look. "She said Blue Spruce specifically?"

"Specifically."

"Yeah. Hmmm. Always best not to cross Eleanor. But I think you're SOL, kid."

Caroline had at least ten years on Jane. But she guessed that a woman who made a career in law enforcement and a life in the culture surrounding it ended up calling a lot of people 'kid' regardless of her age.

"Oh don't say that." Caroline exchanged a fearful look with her friend.

Jane clapped her gloved hands on her bare ears. "This is going to take for-ever. And I'm already freezing." She'd recently cut off all of her long black hair. The resulting thick and spiky pixie was adorable, but left little in the way of winter protection.

"I told you to bring a knit cap." Caroline clucked.

"I look ridiculous in caps."

"You don't, you look adorable." She did. Jane had bright brown eyes that grew three sizes larger when they were framed with short dark hair.

Another roll of head and eyes from Jane. "Adorable is a horrible look for a cop."

"Well suck it up, buttercup. We're not going home until we get the perfect Blue Spruce." Caroline pointed to the car. Jane slumped her shoulders and slunk off toward it.

She groaned as they clicked in their safety belts and Caroline started the car. "Why must I suffer for of your impossible devotion to Eleanor?"

Caroline smirked as she pulled back onto Burn Bridge Lane. If they had to go to Leeds and back she'd find the right tree. Whether it was because she wanted to make Eleanor happy or show her up, Caroline wasn't sure. But either way her mind was made up.

"We all suffer for my devotion to Eleanor, Jane. It's just that you don't get the corresponding benefits."

"Ahhhhhhhhh!" Jane shook her fists at the sunroof.

* * *

"You're doing very, very well." Eleanor laid her hands over Flora's and gently corrected their course across the piano keys. She was doing very well, but it was nearing the end of the promised hour. Add in yesterday's flight from Munich and train ride from Leeds to Pannal, and her head this morning felt full of broken, blinking Christmas lights.

"Thanks mum." Flora didn't take her eyes off the task at hand. Her rote tone rang familiar of Caroline's _'you're the best but stop talking, I'm concentrating on something else right now,'_ answers.

Eleanor smiled and pulled her hands back into her lap. Flora continued and finally headed toward the closing bars of the song. If she never heard Fur Elise again, it would be too soon. Of course, that's also what she'd sworn almost two decades ago when she'd taught it to her daughter Lily. The fact that Lily had graduated with honors from University of Edinbugh with a BA in Music and had stayed on, even after completing her PhD there softened the clang of the notes pounding in her head.

Before she fell in love with Caroline she'd had no intention of raising another child – much less another daughter. Two on her own had been plenty. But the package deal of the feisty blonde head teacher and the precocious, artistic toddler had been one nobody in their right minds would have turned down.

Finding the energy at fifty-six to keep up with a vibrant twelve-year-old and give Flora the time and attention she deserved – it wasn't easy but it was always wonderfully worth it.

Flora hit the last few notes and slid her foot over to the damper pedal. The effect, while technically imperfect, was still charming. She gave Eleanor an enormous toothy Greg-half-grin as she finished. She looked like Kate, frowned like Caroline, and smiled like Eleanor. She pulled her close and planted a kiss at the top of her head.

"You are England's next virtuoso. I'm humbled to be here at the beginning of your magnificent rise."

"I am not a virtuoso." So practical – so Caroline.

"Perhaps not. But perhaps you are. And if you decide that's what you'd like, then we'll make it so, won't we?"

"Yep."

Eleanor stood. "Play on all you'd like. After putting my foot right in my mouth I've got to get to the decorations up or I'll never hear the end of it from your mum." She looked around the house and as she did so felt all the worse for being gone. Nothing had gone up. Clearly Caroline was treading water.

"That's right." Another absent-minded reply from Flora who'd returned to try for a quicker run at the opening.

 _'There's no way I'll keep my sanity if she doesn't stop.'_ There was little time left to properly hang and distribute the contents of the five large Rubbermaid bins in the basement, each busting with holiday cheer. Little time left if she wanted any to spend with Caroline and Flora before the assorted sides of their families showed up tomorrow. She pictured them clamoring and stampeding in like a feuding, atonal pack of feral cats and dogs as ready to turn on each other as they would be on her.

"Flora, honey. Can we make a deal?" She was also happy to have this film crew in her house tomorrow, and the reason for the intrusion. She was more than proud of Caroline, their family, and their life. But a little embellishment, a little gilding reality always went a long way.

At the offer of a deal, the silence from the piano was immediate. Eleanor never served up terms for her deals she didn't consider generous.

"Talk to me about your next – " Eleanor turned to Flora after she glanced at her chunky, wide-faced silver watch – "two hours."

Caroline couldn't possibly be home before noon. She'd sent her off on a little bit of a snipe hunt. But her wife definitely needed a little Jane-time. She'd winced at the ball of stress she'd come home to last night, and Jane was almost the best de-stress medicine she could muster on such short notice.

"You need help?"

"Yes. Mum needs help. And beyond the joy and satisfaction we'll get from spending quality time together on this magical day, you'll also get an extra hour on the piano all next week for it." A win-win for both of them and for her conscience. At least Flora had no interest for negotiating for Xbox time. Lily had been the master of the art of the deal and Eleanor constantly worried about the screen time that one had come away with.

Flora held up her right hand and Eleanor met it. "High five seals it."

* * *

"It'll certainly do."

Eleanor stood with crossed arms and evaluated the tree Caroline and Jane had produced after a long absence. They hadn't arrived back until well after one pm.

Caroline's cheeks were bright and her dense blonde hair up in a short ponytail. She'd rolled the sleeves on her red and white flannel to complete the task of setting the tree in the living room. She and Jane bustled around her with an efficient, 'we've got this ma'am style' and it was abundantly clear that Caroline felt supremely accomplished.

"It'll certainly do?" Caroline crossed her own arms and blustered at Eleanor. But it was missing the strident edge of her anger from the evening previous. A little physical labor and a challenge completed never failed to steady her hot-headed wife.

"Yes. It'll do to impress anyone who sets foot in this house. You've positively nailed it, is what I meant to say."

The tree was impressive. They must have gone half-way to Leeds to find it. Even bare it stood proud and tall next to the imposing black Steinway, Caroline's wedding gift to Eleanor. The white winter light from the French doors to the back garden laid so well on the blue-tinted needles it were as though fifty gay men had worked around the clock to match it to the sage green of their walls.

"Mmmm. Might even say it's perfect?" Jane shot an elbow at Caroline and a raised eyebrow at Eleanor.

"It's absolutely perfect." Eleanor beamed and placed a kiss at the top of Caroline's head.

"Uh huh. Like I said, Caroline. Perfect." Jane shrugged and Caroline scowled at her.

"I have no idea what you two are laughing to yourselves about, but it's impolite. And I've got early tea set. So decide whether you want to sit around covered in sap or change - and hurry up about it. I'm starving."

Jane saluted with two fingers and headed toward the kitchen.

"Come on upstairs Jane – I've got a hoodie for you that you'll want to steal and then ruin" Caroline called back as she disappeared toward the bedroom.

Jane shrugged and did an about-face. "It was just that once. And I can't help what happened with that bottle of whatever it's called. Whoever decided carbonated red wine was a good idea?"

Eleanor chuckled, looked around, and admired her own handiwork. She and Flora had dispatched Christmas cheer around the house as efficiently as north pole elves on uppers. Lights, garland and wreaths set a silver and red palate that snapped the entire place into the mood.

Now – to do something about that horrid capon Caroline had brought home. She picked up her mobile and began dialing for poultry.


	3. Chapter 3

"And what exactly did you have to promise conniving Catherine in order to secure this turkey?" Since Jane's departure and sending Flora off with Greg for the night, they'd orbited each other in well-practiced trajectories, scouring the house and preparing enough food to feed the armies about to descend. Caroline peered under the dishtowel at the massive pale-pink carcass still defrosting on the kitchen counter.

"I know the capon was a little lean, but what in the _world_ are we going to do with twenty-five pounds?"

Eleanor shrugged and didn't look up from rolling out pie dough across the kitchen island. "Listen. It was either eight pounds of scraps, or twenty-five pounds of the main event. And Lawrence will finish five pounds all by himself."

"And you chose main event." Christmas carols floated through the house, but without Flora it still felt quiet. Greg had promised her back no later than ten the next morning. He'd invited Caroline to join them in Manchester for dinner, but she'd turned it down believing she'd want to be home tonight to pick up Eleanor from the train station. Last year they'd had Flora Christmas morning. Caroline preferred it that way.

"I always choose main event."

"Mmmmmmm." Whatever deal Eleanor had made with her frenemy and boss Catherine, Caroline assumed she was much better off not knowing. The two of them traded favors and power in a timeless game that went back to their years together at Oxford.

"The house looks nice." Caroline scooped peeled potatoes out of the sink and started chopping and piling them into a pot of salty water. It did look better for Eleanor's attention, and it felt better for it. When it was just her and Flora it didn't feel like the dream house it had taken them so long to find, and in such a short amount of time, to turn into a home. It reminded her of Conway Drive then, actually, and not in a way that made her smile.

"Thank you. And you can thank your daughter too." This time Eleanor did look up.

Despite a mood that had somehow turned hostile again, when Caroline met her eyes she met her smile as well – but not for long. "She's really something."

"She is, and more like you every day - as practical as she is insufferable. And twice as good looking."

"She could be more like you, Eleanor, if you were home enough to give her the chance."

Eleanor stopped mid-stoke on the pie crust. She wiped her hands at the apron on her waist and with black eyes turned and pointed the rolling pin right at her wife. "Low blow, Caroline. Low. Even for you."

"Don't blame me for not polishing the truth. I know you like to, but it's not my style."

"Christmas Eve? We're going to do this on Christmas Eve?"

"We can wait until tomorrow. Or we can wait until next week, when Catherine calls and you slink across the bedroom with giant sad eyes and sigh and bat your lashes at me and say you have to leave earlier than you thought, and you'll be gone longer than you thought, and throw your hands on your hips and demand, 'don't be mad, Caroline,' when I do get mad, as I have every right to."

Eleanor's hands slid down from where they'd come to rest on her hips, and her mouth drew into a tight line. "I don't want to fight about this. I won't fight about my job. I gave up one career to make this work –" she gestured around the kitchen, rolling pin still in hand "- to stay her in Harrogate with you, and it's the best decision I ever made. But I'm sticking with Catherine and consulting. I love it. I love you too."

"We're finding out which you love more, aren't we?"

"Stop it. Let's don't do this. Please. Not tonight."

"Fine. Refuse to address it. Ignore it and charm me and wheel and deal with me and distract me until you leave again." Caroline tossed her knife across the cutting board. "With all the time we'll saved on not fighting, you can finish the pie and the potatoes."

She stalked out of the kitchen, up the stairs and into the bedroom, where she stopped for no reason other than she had nowhere left to go. Eleanor's suitcase still cowering on the window bench didn't improve her mood and deepened the scowl on her face.

She crossed her arms and stared out at the vast, twinkling, growing panorama of Pannal. The wind whipped the trees and the effect made the vista of holiday lights flutter and dance. The view from the master had locked it years ago for Caroline, when they'd first seen the house. That and the obvious fact that Eleanor was completely in love with it. 'If she still loves it so much she ought to spend more time here.'

Caroline stood in the dim and tried to distract herself searching for familiar holiday displays on the houses in the valley below, waiting to hear Eleanor's footsteps on the hardwood of the stairs. They didn't come, and they didn't come, and they didn't come.

'Ah.' Her mouth twitched in approval. The lights of Gillian and Robbie's car lit the room as they turned into the driveway. Alan's night sight was long done for, Celia wasn't up for driving any longer, and it made her nervous when they were gone too late. They'd been up in Halifax with Gillian and Robbie, but with Alan's heart and Celia's knees, overnights there were years in the past.

The square patch on the carpet from the light pouring through from the hallway stayed frustratingly unchanged. Where was Eleanor?

Now she felt like an idiot. She clicked on a bedside lamp and sat in the yellow pool of light. She slid off her loafers and rubbed at the balls of her feet. They ached more often, and not even on work days.

Around and around this they went, had since day one. Since the London debacle. Eleanor stubbornly refused to be wholly Caroline's. At least that's how she saw it. There was always an opportunity here or a contract there that kept her away.

The garage door rumbled up and down. Between the carols playing below she heard merry greetings. Mum and Alan and company had come into the kitchen. Eleanor's untroubled, merry laughter. Alan's in response.

She sighed, clapped her hands on her thighs and stood. She hustled out the door and down the stairs to manage a hello and a happy Christmas hug before the bulk of her family shuffled back out to the carriage house.

* * *

"You're right, Caroline, I don't want to address it. Because I don't know how to fix it, and I'm not going to change. Not at this point. I've never known how to fix it. We do this on holidays or birthdays or occasions when you're feeling tight. You stomp your feet and steam at the ears and get it out of your system, and on we go. Round and round through the years." Eleanor's voice drifted in, scolding from the en-suite.

Caroline flounced back against her pillows and skimmed her hands across the grey cotton duvet. "Well you ignoring it won't fix it. In fact, it's making it worse."

"No. It's not. It's in your head. So we'll do this again, and as often as you'd like. Fighting's your favorite sport. My job, my travel, they're your favorite plays to run. Someday we'll get to the bottom of that."

Eleanor poked her head out and pointed at Caroline. "But it's Christmas Eve. My second favorite night of the year. I want to focus on that, and I want to focus on you, and I want to focus on what's going right. Because you know we're going right. Incredibly right."

Caroline turned off her lamp and huffed and pounded at her pillows before laying down. "At least I'm mad because you're gone, not because you're here."

"Well that's nice to know. You still want me here." Eleanor scowled as she crossed the shining dark hardwood and plush rug toward the bed. She did up the buttons on her pajamas one by one with slow, deliberate fingers. "And I still very much want to be here."

"It is what I want. Us here. Of course it us. Until we're batty as mum, and old and grey and eating soft foods." Caroline sighed. Celia was nutty, but she'd maintained a shocking amount of autonomy. On the downside, her demeanor was worse for the wear. Caroline didn't have the stomach for this particular dust-up anymore. Eleanor's constant refusal to take her bait always sucked the wind from her self-righteous sails. "It's just that Jane gave me a hard time this morning. About us being perfect. We're not. At all."

"Are you sure about that?" Eleanor tossed back the covers and propped herself up on pillows next to Caroline. She crossed her legs and her arms, and tapped at her mobile before placing it and her now-full-time glasses on the bedside table. She'd caved under pressure from Caroline two years ago and then promptly become thrilled at the prospect of shopping for a new accessory. "Are you sure you have to be angry at your friend Jane for poking you where it hurts, and then come home and take it out on me?"

"No."

"And you know Jane didn't do it on purpose, right? That she looks up to you?"

"What's to look up to?"

"Honestly. Caroline. You call me dramatic, but sometimes you're too much. Get over yourself. Now." Eleanor glanced at the clock and smacked Caroline on the stomach. "I'm proud of you. And it's eleven twenty. I'd hate for Santa to catch you out and swipe you over to the naughty list. You don't want to miss what he's brought you this year."

Caroline let out an _'ooof'_ and swatted back. She turned to Eleanor and added a poke for good measure. It wasn't playful and it wasn't hostile. She kept her face planted in Eleanor's soft midriff and flopped an arm across her side. "We are very right."

Eleanor turned off her own light and wiggled down. "There's our good girl. Just under the wire. I think I hear reindeer hooves."

"No, you hear the furnace coming on. It's outlasted itself by more than a year. We need to replace it."

"I'll arrange for it during my endless travel furlough coming up next month."

"Mmmmmmmm." _'We'll see.'_ Caroline gave in to the holiday, fatigue, and Eleanor's monolithic unflappable façade. She closed her eyes and drifted off to the sound of her wife's steady, deep breathing and a nose-full of her faint perfume. So much better than the ghost of it that lived on the sheets in her absence.

* * *

 **A/N**  
 _Finished for now but not complete. This is a piece of something I wrote during the holidays, a time I like to visit with the ladies. It's all come together for me what Caroline's problem has been. Even back to her issue with Eleanor in London - and how all that propels their separation after Celia's death. This fight they keep having, it all ties back to it. Once it's addressed it's a real turning of the page for Caroline and for her marriage. Can't say when it will ever be written, but I'm enjoying writing it when I can. :-)_

 _As with Nothing More, only signed-in reviews published. I don't always get the notification emails in a timely manner, but I will take down anonymous reviews._


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